The Claws Of Depression
by Vive Aeternaliter
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, a depressed Harry commits suicide, wanting nothing more but to rest in peace. But someone has other plans for him. Harry is instead sent to the year 1944, where he is reunited with his old arch nemesis, Tom Riddle. Will this experience heal him, or forever break him? Slash - HP/TR
1. Chapter 1

**The Claws Of Depression**

**Rating:** M, just to be safe.**  
**

**Pairings:** Harry/Tom Riddle.

**Warnings: **Contains swearing, depression, suicide attempts, and self-harm.**  
**

**Summary: **After the Battle of Hogwarts, a depressed Harry commits suicide, wanting nothing more but to rest in peace. But someone has other plans for him. Harry is instead sent to the year 1944, where he is reunited with his old arch nemesis, Tom Riddle? Will this experience heal him, or forever break him?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Chapter One: **

**Putting an End to One's Misery**

Harry collapsed on the floor, his whole body shaking in exhaustion. He had finally done it. Voldemort was dead.

Harry knew that he should be relieved that he was finally dead, but the guilt he felt inside of him overwhelmed him. That soul deprived bastard was finally dead, but at what cost? Thousands of lives were lost. Friends... Loved ones... Life had even been taken away from the hands of innocent children, taken away before they even had a proper chance at living.

Harry knew that there was no point lying to himself. The fault of these numerous deaths belonged solely to him. He had nobody to blame but himself. He felt tears prickle his eyes. He hastily wiped them away. Crying wouldn't bring them back.

He was disgusted with himself. If he had pushed Cedric out of the way, and taken the curse himself, his friend might have had a chance to escape. But he let the pain he had felt at that moment overpower him, when his friend's life was in danger.

If Harry hadn't been so stupid as to believe that Sirius had been really captured by Voldemort, then his godfather would have lived. He had gone to rescue him, when in the end, he was the one in need of rescuing. Because of him, Sirius was dead.

If he had surrendered himself to Voldemort immediately, then the battle at Hogwarts would have never taken place. Everyone would have lived... Remus... Tonks... Fred... If he hadn't been so goddamn selfish... So goddamn thick... Then maybe it wouldn't have arrived to this point.

Even though during their conversation via the Resurrection Stone, they had told him that they didn't blame him, but he couldn't help himself from feeling guilty.

"Harry!" a familiar voice called out.

Harry sighed, slightly frustrated. He was in no mood to make conversation. He just wanted to be left alone. He hurriedly wiped his eyes again, before forcing himself into a sitting position.

"Yes Hermione?"

His friend had sat down beside him and was gazing at him intently.

"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked, visibly concerned.

"I'm fine," he replied quietly.

Seeing the way she was staring at him, he knew that she didn't believe him. But he honestly couldn't bring himself to care.

"Are you really okay Harry?"

"I told you I'm fine Hermione!" Harry snapped, hoping she would get the hint and leave him alone.

Hermione was clearly taken aback by his sudden change in behavior, but didn't comment on it. They lapsed into a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Harry knew she wanted to say something, but was restraining herself from saying it.

After some time, he saw her start to shiver from the cold. It was only at that point that he noticed that they were sitting in front of the Great Lake.

"You should go back inside, I'm afraid I won't be much fun tonight."

"I'm fine here," she said. Harry's hand twitched slightly. "I'm worried about you, Harry," she finally confessed.

"There's no need to worry about me."

"But I do!" she protested. "Harry, you're my best friend! How can I not worry about you?"

Any trace of frustration he had felt just before was now gone. Harry didn't think it was possible, but he now felt even more guilty. He didn't deserve a friend like Hermione. She was nothing but nice to him and all he ever did was to take her life for granted. He had let her willingly come along with him on all of his adventures. He could have lost her countless times. And after all of that, she still wanted to be his friend.

And to be honest, Harry wanted to keep her as a friend. But he knew that it was another one of his selfish thoughts. After all, even with Voldemort gone, there were lots of vengeful Death Eaters roaming around the country. Harry still wasn't safe. If he let her stay with him, then there was a risk of her getting injured. And he wouldn't allow that.

As for Ron, Harry seriously doubted that they would remain friends. After all, Ron probably hated him now seeing as there was a high probability that he blamed him for Fred's death. And he couldn't blame him. He may have not done it directly, but he was still partially responsible for his death.

Harry at least consoled himself with the fact that if they stayed apart, that they wouldn't be in any danger.

Harry turned his head slowly towards Hermione, who was still looking at him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, before he broke the contact. He knew what he had to do.

"Hermione, I don't think that we can be friends anymore," he told her sadly, internally wincing at how childish his words sounded.

"What?!" she cried, aghast. Then her eyes narrowed "If this is about your 'saving people' complex then-"

"No it's not like that," he lied, interrupting her in the process. "It's for... personal reasons... I need time to process everything that has happened."

Hermione didn't answer straight away. She seemed to be in deep thought.

"I understand Harry," she finally replied, even though he could tell she didn't. "After all we've all been through a lot... Though I can't even imagine how bad it must have been for you. You've always had this huge weight of responsibility on your shoulders. You've never had the possibility to live a normal life," she paused, hesitation written all over her face. "But I don't see why you feel the need to throw away your friendships. We all need to rely on others in order to heal. We can help you through this. Please trust me on this, Harry."

Harry sighed. He knew that it was going to be hard, but not this hard. He was feeling awful about this. But he knew deep down that it was for the best.

"I'm sorry Hermione. But while you and others might think that, I don't. I need to be on my own to heal. Being around..." he broke off in mid sentence. The lump that had suddenly formed in his throat was preventing him from speaking properly. He took a deep breath. "Being around you brings back too many memories... Memories I want to forget..."

Not wanting to see the look on her face, he stood up, and took a couple of steps forward.

"I don't think that's the real reason Harry..."

"And how would you know?" he questioned, his anger returning without warning.

"Harry, I've known you for years. I can tell when you're lying to me or not," she said with a little smile, in hope to lighten the mood. "Why don't you tell me the truth, Harry?"

Something in Harry snapped at that moment.

"YOU JUST HAVE TO BLOODY KNOW EVERYTHING DON'T YOU?! YOU DO NOTHING BUT PUT YOUR NOSE INTO OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESSES! WELL GUESS WHAT? IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW, IT ANNOYS THE SHIT OUT OF EVERYBODY! HASN'T IT EVER OCCURRED TO YOU THAT YOU MAY BE UNWELCOME? NO, OF COURSE YOU HAVEN'T! YOU JUST PRESSURE AND BOSS EVERYONE AROUND JUST TO SATISFY YOUR OWN DAMNED CURIOSITY!" He shouted, breathing heavily.

"W-what? Of course not!" she cried, tears welling up in her eyes.

"AND DON'T YOU FUCKING DENY IT! YOU ALWAYS DO THAT! YOU WANT TO HAVE THE ANSWERS FOR EVERYTHING! ALL I WANT IS FOR YOU TO STOP PRESSURING ME FOR ANSWERS AND TO LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE! BUT NO YOU NEVER DO! WELL YOU KNOW WHAT?! FUCK YOU HERMIONE! I HA-"

BANG!

The next thing Harry knew, he was once more sprawled out on the ground, his jaw throbbing painfully. Ron was looming over him, a murderous expression on his face.

It was only at that moment that Harry realized what he had done. He was horrified. He had lost control of his emotions and had shouted at his best friend. She was only trying to help him and he had insulted her horribly. What the hell was wrong with him?

Harry was vaguely aware that Ron was shouting at him, but he couldn't seem to register anything that was said to him. That's when he realized something.

He just wanted it all to end. Frankly, he was exhausted. He didn't have the strength to carry on. It was too painful. He felt a couple of tears slip down his cheeks, but was too tired to care. He had had enough. He had suffered enough.

He wanted nothing else but to rest in peace.

He wanted desperately to join his parents and Sirius.

Not thinking clearly, he snatched his wand from his pocket and pointed it towards himself. However it was snatched from him before he could do anything.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU HARRY!" Ron yelled, his face extremely pale.

The response from Ron made Harry lift his head to meet his eyes. Seeing his best-friend's angered and shocked look, he broke. He began to cry in earnest. He buried his head in his knees, heart retching sobs wracking his frame. He never saw the alarmed look that Ron and Hermione shared.

After a while he felt a pair of arms engulf him into a hug. Harry, who was now hysterical, tried to push the person away, but the grip they had on him was strong.

"N-no no! Let me g-go! Please!" he moaned in between sobs.

His pleas went ignored by the person. Instead the arms tightened around him. This resulted in Harry to fight violently against the grip, hyperventilating. His eyes were unfocused and his magic was lashing violently around him.

He felt the arms leave him abruptly. He thought he heard someone telling him to calm down but he was already too far gone.

Images were now flashing in his mind, so fast that they made his head hurt. He felt his vision start to blacken. Harry was mentally begging for it to stop. Seeing the images flying around so fast in his head was agony.

Finally the images slowed down, before settling to one in particular.

"Sirius..." Harry whispered brokenly.

It was the last thing he said before the darkness claimed him.

* * *

Harry groggily woke up, feeling disorientated. His head throbbed painfully. He opened his eyes. Everything was spinning around him, so fast that it made him want to throw up. He closed his eyes again, hoping that this feeling of sickness would pass soon.

When he was convinced that he wasn't going to be sick everywhere, he opened them once more. He forced himself into a sitting position, using one arm as leverage. The other was grasping his head.

He looked around him. He was in a dimly lit room. He vaguely wondered why he was no longer in the grounds, but his head was too painful for him to care.

The room he was in felt somehow familiar but his vision was too blurry for him to properly identify the room. He reached out blindly for his glasses on the floor next to him. Once he found them, he cleaned them on his robes before putting them back on.

When he could see properly, he continued checking his surroundings when his eyes landed on something that made his stomach lurch involuntary.

He was staring at the veil. The veil Sirius had fallen through.

He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the tattered black veil. It was swaying slightly, like there was a small breeze in the room. The tall archway that surrounded the veil was made of stone. It looked like it was going to fall to pieces, but it only seemed to add to its fascinating beauty.

Harry slowly stood up, and made his way to the veil. He thought he could hear whispering as he edged more and more towards it.

Once he was standing right in front of it, he hesitantly touched the veil with his hand. It felt unnaturally cold, but somehow it felt right.

He wondered what it must be like to walk though the veil. Would his death be quick and pain free, or would it be long and painful?

A thought then occurred to him. Harry was no longer obliged to live. He had achieved his purpose in life, so he wasn't needed anymore. For the first time in his life, Harry finally had a choice. He didn't have to live, or even die just because the situation demanded it.

A small, broken smile formed on his lips. He was finally free.

Stepping through the veil was a very appealing idea to him as he would finally he able to rest in peace. He would be with his loved ones for eternity. That's all he had ever wanted, a family.

Making his decision, he summoned some parchment and inc. He wrote a few words on it before placing it next to the veil. Someone would find it soon enough.

He then took a deep breath and stepped through the veil, without so much as a backwards glance.

* * *

The train station was empty. There were no trains, not even passing by ones. The place was deserted. That was until a young man suddenly appeared from thin air. He was unconscious.

The man wasn't on his own for long, as a strange, cloaked figure arrived soon after. It made his way to the person, twirling its scythe in its hands.

The figure then used his scythe to turn the unconscious man so that he was on his back. A gleeful smile appeared on its lips.

"My, my, twice in one evening Harry Potter, I believe you're setting a record," it remarked dryly." I may have allowed you to come back the first time, reluctantly I may add, but now you're all mine," it continued in a sadistic voice.

"Now what should I do with you?" it wondered. "I could send you to Heaven, but seeing as you committed suicide, I'm pretty reluctant to do so. And anyway, you're far too entertaining to be left out of my watch. I could send you to Hell, where you would be reunited with your old pal, Tom Riddle. I must say, it would be amusing to watch the both of you curse each other into oblivion. Or..." His eyes shone with mirth. "I could make you my personal servant. You would do my bidding and suffer daily tortures, until you realize that what old Voldy did to you was nothing compared to what I can do." He was silent for a moment, examining his scythe. "Though I've got to admit that Voldy was my first choice, as it would have been pretty ironic, you know? But in the end I decided against it. He's too whacked out for my liking. Rendering humans insane is one of my best hobbies. But he managed to do it to himself, so he is of no more importance to me. Pity."

It stared at the still unconscious Harry and cocked its head to one side, as someone would do when they were looking at some new test rats.

"So, Potter, what do you think I should do? Should I make you my personal servant?"

The figure put one hand to its ear, as if straining to hear something.

"Oh, is that a yes?" it asked delightedly. "Well, seeing as you're so thrilled about the idea, how could I possibly refuse you now ?"

The figure bent down and took proceeded to shake Harry's hand. It then stood up, and with one small movement of its scythe, the man was floating in mid air, his head lolling grotesquely. The cloaked figure was just about to make them both disappear when:

"LET GO OF MY SON, DEATH!" a woman's voice screeched, stopping it in its tracks.

Death wheeled around to see Lily Evans glaring at him. He shrugged.

"As you wish," it said simply, and Harry collapsed to the ground in a crumpled heap.

The glare Lily sported on her face intensified.

"What?" Death asked innocently, well, as innocently it could manage.

"That's not what I meant!"

"Oh, I know," it agreed, smirking, before turning serious. "Look human, I've got a job to do, so if you would kindly leave, I'd appreciate it."

"Oh, and leave Harry here with you, not a chance!"

"I'm beginning to see a pattern here, Evans," he stated, frustrated.

The woman had opened her mouth to answer when the forms of James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Albus Dumbledore apparated next to her, effectively interrupting her before she could speak. The one nearest to her, James, put an arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

"Really?!" Death threw up his arms in frustration.

"Is it true? Is he dead?" Remus asked, his face colorless.

"No, no, he's just visiting. Harry here is looking to purchase a new holiday home seeing as his last is no longer suited for him. What do you think?!" it snapped, its voice dripping with sarcasm.

Remus blushed in embarrassment.

"How?"

Death turned to Sirius, who had voiced the question.

"Suicide," it answered neutrally.

Lily, James, Sirius and Remus shared a sad, but knowing look. They slowly made their way to Harry. Lily knelt down next to Harry and lifted his head, so that it would be resting on her knees. She then started to run her hands in Harry's hair, her hands shaking slightly.

"He looks awful," James commented, gloomily.

"That's an understatement," Sirius added, sadly. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault. If I hadn't gotten myself locked up in Azkaban, then I could have made sure he led a happy life."

"Stop it Sirius!" James sighed. "You know very well that it's not your fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's Dumbledore's."

James turned to face Albus.

"I hope you're happy, Dumbledore. Your insufferable meddling caused this."

"It was for the Greater Good," Albus countered, not seeming apologetic at all.

"You son of a bitch," he growled. He tried to lunge at Albus, but he was prevented by Sirius and Remus, who had each grabbed hold of one of his arms. "You're the one who sent Harry to the Dursley's. Harry was nothing but a bloody pawn to you! He trusted you and all you ever did is betray him! You're nothing but a manipulative bastard!" he bellowed, breathing heavily.

"Things get hard when you're at war, James, you should know. Sacrifices have to be made."

"You sacrificed a child's life! No child's life should ever be sacrificed!"

"I wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice a child's life, if there was the slightest chance that it would save the Wizarding world!", Albus stated, his cool demeanor now gone. Anger was flashing in his eyes.

"Look I don't have all day, stop your petty quarreling so we can get down to business," Death interrupted, a sneer now on its face.

It was clear that James was reluctant to back down.

"It's pointless James," Remus told him. "The old man is too far gone to see the error of his ways."

The two men locked eyes for a moment, before James relented. Remus and Sirius let go of his arms.

"I think you should go, Dumbledore, you're not wanted here," James spat out angrily.

Albus looked like he was going to protest, when Death made him disappear abruptly by moving his scythe.

"So what will happen to Harry now?" Sirius questioned worriedly, once the initial shock of Death banishing the old Headmaster away had faded.

Death scoffed. "Same as everyone, Heaven or Hell. Though I would quite like to make him my personal servant."

"Oh no, Hell no!" cried Sirius. "There's no chance in hell we'd allow him to go with you!"

Death let out a little mad cackle, making them jump.

"Well I'm Death, so what I say goes," it announced, amusement shining in his eyes.

It received glares from the three men in response. Lily just smiled.

"Harry is still the Master of Death, so his word trumps yours," Lily asserted. "And I don't think he would willingly go with you, so that rules your option out."

Death looked disgruntled.

"Spoil my fun, why don't you," it grumbled.

Sirius eyes bugged out when he saw that Death was almost pouting. An awkward silence settled between them.

"I don't think Harry should go on," Lily confessed finally, breaking the silence.

"Why?" inquired Sirius.

"I don't think he's ready yet to join us, despite what he may think. He's never experienced how wonderful life can be. He's always been identified as the Boy-Who-Lived, and was expected to save the world, so he's never been a normal child. And after everything he's faced, I think he deserves a chance to lead a normal life."

James nodded in agreement.

"I agree with Lily, he's not ready yet. Because of Albus," he shot him an icy look, "he's frankly had a crap life. The only times he had a chance at happiness, it was cruelly snatched from him immediately afterwards. And because of that, he ended up committing suicide. Life has been nothing but unfair to him."

"You know if you send him back, he'll probably try end his life again within the first twenty-four hours," Death remarked, rolling its eyes.

"I know," James admitted, sadly. "But he deserves a chance to be happy."

Death huffed. "Clearly, the boy has clearly committed suicide to put an end to his misery, thinking he would be happier dead."

Lily shook her head sadly.

"Harry thinks he'll be happy here, but he won't be. He'll soon start to feel empty, like something is missing. He won't fully heal with only our help. He needs help from a different source."

"From who?"

Lily gave a knowing smile in response, but otherwise stayed silent. Death narrowed its eyes.

"Do you agree with us, Sirius?" He nodded. "And you Remus?"

Remus stayed quiet for a moment, thinking everything through.

"When you say that you want to send him back, do you mean now, or do you meant in the past or future?"

Lily and James shared a look, as if having a silent conversation. Then they both nodded at the same time.

"Anywhere is better than the time period he lives in at the moment," Lily declared. "Of course, we would prefer the past, as Harry we would have no idea what to expect in the future."

Death snorted. Everbody turned towards him, eyebrows raised.

"Is there a problem?" Lily inquired, coolly.

"Yeah, actually there is Evans. What makes you think that I'm willing to go out of my way to send Potter back in time?

"Because he's the Master of D-"

"Master of Death nothing!" it snapped. "The kid clearly wants to go on, and not to be sent back in time, so if I were to take account of that title, then I would have to listen to his demands, and his demands only." A smirk formed on its lips. "You're just going to have to convince me."

They all pondered on that thought for a while, each trying to find a way to get what they thought was best for Harry.

Sirius suddenly took a couple of steps so that he was next to Death. He then put an arm on its left shoulder, and winked, much to everyone's surprise.

"I'm sure we can figure out some type of arrangement," he said, in a seductive voice.

James choked on his own spit. Remus's jaw dropped open. Death and, surprisingly enough, Lily looked highly amused.

"Are you mad?!" James blurted out incredulously.

"Y-you can't be serious?!" spluttered Remus.

"That's my name," he answered, grinning.

James sighed irritably.

"You're unbelievable."

"What?"

"You mortals have an odd sense of humor," Death pointed out.

"One of our many qualities," Sirius agreed, wiggling his eyebrows. "Tell me, Death, do you find your job satisfying enough, or do you find yourself getting often bored with it?" It remained silent, but motioned him to continue. "If you were to sent Harry back in time, then Harry would most likely change a lot of things in the time-line, therefore the future itself. You would get a front row seat, and witness the becoming of the world in a whole new way. You would be able compare the two realities with each other. This is something I would find highly entertaining, if I were you."

Death mulled it over for a while, weighing the pros and cons of Sirius's suggestion.

"You've intrigued me, Black." it said after a while. "You have five minutes to say goodbye to the boy."

It then stepped away, giving them some privacy.

"That was almost Slytherin of you, Sirius." James told Sirius.

"You forget that I'm a Black," he responded with a mixture of amusement and disgust.

"Come on, we don't have a lot of time," Lily said urgently.

They all turned to Harry. Lily took out her wand and said a few incantations. A blue light shot out of her wand and enveloped them all. The three men glanced at her questioningly.

"When the time is right, Harry'll have access to this memory of us saying our goodbyes. It's the least we owe him," Lily explained.

They nodded in understanding. Remus went first, Sirius went after that. Then it came to James's turn. He knelt down, and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, son. I know you think that you want to go on, but we know that's not what's best for you. You're going to experience some tough times, but I can assure you that in the end you'll find happiness. I hope that you'll be able to forgive us one day, Harry. Just remember that I'll always be proud of you, whatever you decide to do later on in life. I love you Harry."

He lightly squeezed his shoulder tears prickling his eyes. Lily who still had Harry's head on her knees, gave him a weak smile.

"Harry," she said, as she continued to run a hand in her son's hair. "Please don't give up yet, I promise you that what we're doing is in your best interest. It may seem like we're being unfair to you, but you'll thank us, later on. Life hasn't been fair to you Harry, but that's going to change. Everybody deserves a bit of happiness in their lives, even you, despite what you may think. You now have an opportunity to live away from all the fame and the expectations of others, so don't let it slip away. Be strong Harry. We love you no matter what. We'll see you soon, Harry."

"Time's up!" Death told them. "Stand back," he ordered.

Lily bent down and kissed Harry's forehead. She then lifted delicately his head and put it back on the ground. She stood up and back away slightly, as did everyone else.

"Goodbye Harry," Lily whispered, tearing up.

Death lifted up his scythe and Harry vanished once more.

* * *

**A/N:** Hey everyone! I hope that you enjoyed this first chapter of The Claws Of Depression. This was an idea I've had for a couple of months now, so I am pretty excited about it. I would be very happy if you left me a review, telling me what you thought of this chapter :).

Have a nice day, or evening :D.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Claws Of Depression**

**A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you're all okay :)**

******I** want to thank all those who read my last chapter, and I want to say another big thank you to all those who have reviewed! It really means a lot to me! 

**I'm very glad that you all liked my last chapter. I honestly didn't expect my story to appeal this much to you, so I'm extremely happy! Hopefully you'll like this one just as much :).**

**Rating:** M, just to be safe.**  
**

**Pairings:** Harry/Tom Riddle.

**Warnings: **Contains swearing, depression, suicide attempts, and self-harm.**  
**

**Summary: **After the Battle of Hogwarts, a depressed Harry commits suicide, wanting nothing more but to rest in peace. But someone has other plans for him. Harry is instead sent to the year 1944, where he is reunited with his old arch nemesis, Tom Riddle? Will this experience heal him, or forever break him?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Chapter Two: **

**Getting Pulled Through Time  
**

As soon as Harry regained consciousness, he immediately knew that he didn't die. The sinking feeling he had in the pit of his stomach was still there. He was also, completely exhausted. Surely he shouldn't be like this if he was dead.

He had gone through the veil hadn't he? So why on earth wasn't he dead?

He sighed. He should have expected it. Nothing was ever easy for him after. Everything seemed to be hard for him, even dying.

A tear slid down his cheek. It just wasn't fair.

He didn't know how long he lay on the ground, tormented by his depressing thoughts. He was vaguely aware that he was shaking from the cold. Maybe he could just go into hypothermia and die.

If the veil didn't kill him, surely this would. He would just go into a deep sleep and his brain would gradually shut down, effectively killing him. And he was weak, so he knew that his body didn't have the strength to resist this. He didn't see how he could recover from this.

But then again he survived when Voldemort shot the killing curse, and he did again just now.

_Maybe I just can't die... _he thought.

He pushed that scary thought out of his mind. He refused to even contemplate that possibility.

He shut his eyes instead, and tried to will himself into sleep.

"The stars have told me you would be arriving here today, future child," A deep voice announced, some time after.

Future child? Harry opened his eyes. He blinked a couple of times in order to get rid of the blurriness that had settled in his vision, even though he was wearing glasses. Once he could see properly, he found a centaur looming over him.

"Are you alright?" the magical creature asked him, visibly concerned.

Harry tried to answer, but instead dissolved into a hacking coughing fit.

"We need to get you inside the castle," he heard him say.

Castle? Did he mean Hogwarts? Did that mean he was in the Forbidden Forest? No, no, no, he did NOT want to go back to Hogwarts and confront his friends.

Harry started to panic slightly.

"No!" Harry shouted, once his coughing had calmed down, taking the creature aback.

"No?" he repeated. He could hear the confusion in the centaur's voice. "Where do you want to go then?"

"Nowhere. Just leave me here," he declared, turning his gaze away from the centaur. He didn't like seeing the centaur's expression of concern. It made him feel worse.

"What?" the centaur cried, incredulous. "But you'll catch your death out here!"

"That's kind of what I'm aiming for," he replied dryly.

The centaur stayed silent for such a long time that Harry was beginning to hope that he had granted his request and left him. But he could still feel his presence, so he knew that he was still there.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," he finally said.

"Why not?" he asked, his panic increasing by the second.

"I am not about to watch someone die, especially when I can do something about it. I'm bringing you to the castle."

The next thing he knew, he had jumped to his feet and was facing the centaur, his eyes wild. He swayed slightly, but forced himself to stay upright.

"And if I don't want to go there? Then what?" he challenged, his voice shaking.

"Then I'm going to have to bring you by force."

On pure instinct, Harry tried to reach for his wand, but then remembered that Ron had taken it from him. Knowing he didn't stand a chance, he then contemplated the idea of just running for it.

The centaur must have sensed this as he took a cautious step towards him.

Harry stopped thinking at this point. He turned abruptly and tried to run. But he wasn't sure if it was due to exhaustion, but suddenly everything started to violently spin around him.

This caused him to lose his balance and fall. Fortunately, strong arms caught him before any damage was done.

"Let me go..." he whimpered.

But the arms just tightened around him in response. He then felt a whoosh of wind, and realized that the centaur was carrying him to the castle.

He tried to fight back, be was too weak. He was going to be brought back to the castle and there was nothing he could do about it. He was condemned to live until he got another opportunity to end his life.

He felt a couple of tears leak from his eyes. Harry reluctantly abandoned himself in the familiar feeling of fading in and out of consciousness, gradually loosing grasp of reality.

* * *

Tom Riddle was sitting in a secluded corner in the Hogwarts library. As it was the Christmas holidays, his followers had all gone back to their families. So he was now alone, but he didn't mind. He actually preferred it this way. This meant that he could study The Dark Arts for hours at a time and nobody would disturb him.

Some would say that he was a loner, something he couldn't deny. He had after all, lived eleven years of his life in an orphanage where everyone was terrified of him and treated him like he was some kind of freak. He never had any friends, so he had kept to himself. And plus, he had to return there every summer, which didn't arrange him.

His group of Death Eaters were, let's say, amusing to have around, but they were also, ironically, boring. They were nothing but insignificant human beings, with perhaps a slightly more elevated magical power than the norm. But they were nothing like him.

Even though his followers knew that he studied the Dark Arts, seeing as he taught them new spells and tricks on a weekly basis, he kept the details of his more profound researches to himself.

His followers were all afraid of him, so Tom could successfully order them to do anything for him, and they wouldn't dare question his judgment. But if he told them one day that he had made two Horcruxes, there was the likelihood that one of them might squeal to the headmaster.

He had asked Slughorn information about Horcruxes, something he would have never done if he wasn't one hundred percent sure that he wouldn't tell someone.

And the only reason his head of house had given him any information in the first place, was probably because he was certain that his model student wouldn't dream about going on a killing rampage to split his soul. Well he was wrong about that.

And that was what Tom was studying right now in the library. Usually he would do those studies in his dorm, but now that it was the holidays, the teachers insisted on keeping as eye on every single student, seeing as there was only about thirty of them in the school at the moment.

So he had gone to the library. Of course, he had switched the cover with one from another book. He wasn't so stupid as to let himself be caught with a Dark Arts book so easily. If a teacher caught him with a book of this kind, it would ruin his image.

Tom had also noticed a couple of side effects from creating the two Horcruxes last year. He was having trouble keeping his emotions reigned in. He was now prone to having fits of rage, which he could thankfully control until no one was around. So no one noticed his sudden change of behavior.

But those mood swings, as annoying as they were, were definitely worth the price of being immortal. And after creating a couple more Horcruxes, he would never have to worry about death.

A sudden "CRASH!" suddenly distracted him from his research. He was just about to discard it when a couple of people screamed. Curious, he closed his book, put it in his bag, and stepped out of library.

Being in the school for now nearly seven years, he knew immediately where the screams had come from.

Tom made his way to the entrance hall of the school, with slow, but confident steps.

A group of first years were huddled around something, but he couldn't see what.

"Move," Tom ordered.

They shot him a terrified look before scurrying away, effectively giving him a view of what caused the commotion.

A young man was sprawled out on the stone floor. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

This is what all of this was about? Sure, he wasn't a Hogwarts student, seeing as he knew nearly every face in the school, but he seemed to be harmless.

But still, he _Accioed_ the man's wand, for precaution. Except he didn't receive anything. He tried the spell again, but still didn't get an extra wand. That's when he realized that the man didn't have his wand.

His other eyebrow was now raised. What kind of person would willingly walk around without a wand?

Tom took a couple of confident steps towards the man, until he was leaning over him.

He noted that he looked terrible. He was filthy, covered in cuts, and had purple bags under his eyes. His clothes were ripped, and looked like they had been ripped so many times that even a _Reparo _spell wouldn't repair them now.

The young man's eyes were closed. His breathing was ragged. If not for the incomprehensible things he was mumbling, Tom would have thought he was unconscious.

It was clear that he couldn't have gotten there on his own. But then how did he end up there?

Tom quickly glanced outside and got his response. He saw a thin outline of a centaur retreating back into the forbidden forest.

He had half a mind to just leave the person on the floor, as he wasn't of any interest to him, and go back into the library, but he knew that it would just cause him problems later on.

He leaned down and grasped one of the young man's arms to pull him up. That's when the man's eyes shot open.

Tom found himself gazing into green emerald orbs. While this action may have surprised some, Tom was unperturbed. He noticed that his eyes were unfocused, like he was in some sort of trance.

He adjusted his grip on the man's wrist and pulled him to his feet, none too gently. He then proceeded to drag him to the Hospital Wing. He was forced to stop however, when the young man stumbled.

He felt a flash of irritation at this, but he kept his face emotionless, like he always did.

"Do you want me to summon a stretcher?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

His voice seemed to shake the young man out of his trance, or at least a little. He stared at him with wide eyes, before trying desperately to free himself from the grip. Tom instinctively tightened the grip, just in case the other decided to do a runner.

"NO! LET ME GO! I WON'T GO WITH YOU, JUST LEAVE ME BE! IS IT SO FUCKING HARD FOR EVERYONE TO JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!" the other screamed, taking him aback.

_What the hell? _Tom thought.

"You have to go to the Hospital Wing, you're injured," he said simply, not really knowing how to deal with a delirious and emotionally unstable person.

"NO! I WON'T GO! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! WHY WON'T YOU LET ME DO THIS! I'VE DONE WHAT YOU ALL WANTED, WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT OF ME?" the other continued, obviously not hearing a word he said.

Tom thought for a brief second, about stunning him and levitating him to the Hospital Wing. But then the young man's eyes unexpectedly widened. But with what? Recognition?

"No..." the man whispered. "It can't be! I... I..."

And then the man suddenly collapsed back onto the floor, unconscious.

Tom Riddle blinked.

* * *

Harry's eyes blinked open, only to be met the familiar site of the Hospital Wing ceiling. This was ridiculous. He'd been there so many times that he was able to recognize the place, even without his glasses on.

Judging by the small rays of sunlights creeping though the windows of The Hospital Wing, he guessed that it was about seven or eight o'clock.

He reached blindly for his glasses on the bedside table next to him and slid them on. He then slowly pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed, ignoring the pounding in his head the action brought him.

It was at that moment that he realized that he had no idea how he had landed here. The last thing he remembered was being manhandled to the school by a centaur.

Clearly the centaur had gotten what he wanted, otherwise he most certainly wouldn't be in a hospital bed right now. In any other situation, he would have been furious towards him, but nothing could replace the cold emptiness he felt right now.

He sighed. He swung his legs over the bed so that he was touching the cold floor and stood up. He attempted to take a step forward, but his knees buckled under the strain. He grabbed on instinctively to the bed to stop himself from falling.

_I must have been out for some time._ He commented mentally.

After a few more attempts, he managed to make his way to the window opposite him. He sat down on the window sill and looked out the window.

It was something that had always soothed him, gazing out at the... Snow?

Harry frowned. Something didn't add up. It was May, the last time he checked. So why was there snow on the Quidditch pitch?

Seeing as he was trying to freeze to death earlier, he should have noticed that something was off, apart from the fact that he didn't die.

And why did the centaur address him as "future child" ? It just didn't make any sense.

However, Harry had no time to ponder on his thoughts as the Hospital Wing's doors opened quietly, revealing two people. The one of the left he didn't know. But when he saw who was on the right, he paled. He was face to face with his dead headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

How in the hell was Dumbledore alive? He'd seen his dead body, he'd been at the funeral. He'd even talked to him when he "died" the first time.

They walked towards him, while Harry stayed frozen on the window sill, staring at Dumbledore.

"Oh good, you're awake!" the man next to Dumbledore said. "We were starting to get worried. You've been out for three days."

Harry ignored the man who was speaking, and kept on gawking at his old headmaster.

"You're in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in the Hospital Wing to be more precise," the man continued, not noticing that he didn't have his attention. "I'm Professor Dippet, the school's headmaster, and this i-"

"Huh?" Harry said stupidly, snapping back to reality. "But Professor Dumbledore's headmaster. Or was at least..."

The two professors shared a confused look. Harry couldn't take it anymore.

"What the hell is going on here?! Professor, how can you be there, you're supposed to be dead!" he blurted out before he could stop himself, taking the other two men by surprise.

Their confused looks had now turned into alarmed ones. Dumbledore's eyes had stopped twinkling, making Harry, for some unknown reason, regret what he had just said.

"How do you know Professor Dumbledore?" Professor Dippet finally inquired, choosing his words carefully.

"He was my headmaster for six years, before he... well..." Harry trailed off, uncomfortably.

An awkward silence settled between them. Harry tore his gaze from Dumbledore, and fixed a spot on the floor instead, feeling uneasy.

"Do you know the date?" Professor Dumbledore unexpectedly asked him.

He shot the man a weird look.

"May, 1998. I don't know the exact day though."

The man's eyes widened with understanding, only adding to Harry's confusion.

"What?"

"It's the 26th of December, 1944," Dumbledore announced, gravely.

Harry's face went white. He felt like a bucket of icy water had just been poured over him.

"You're joking right?" he whispered, even though he knew he wasn't.

He had to admit that it made perfect sense. The change of seasons, the centaur's way of addressing him. Dumbledore was still alive and even looked a lot younger. And his hair was no longer gray. It now had an auburn shade to it.

_No, no, no... This can't be happening to me. All I want to do is to die and rest in peace, is that too much to ask for?! _He thought desperately.

"So what happens now?" he asked, tiredly.

"Well," Dippet uttered, "I must say that this is an unusual case, Mr-?"

"Potter, Harry Potter."

"Right, well as I said, this is an unusual case, Mr. Potter. Time travel is something rare, but not unheard of. But it still remains a mystery to us, as it is so unpredictable. I've never heard of a case such as this though. The only people who have managed to time travel, have only been able to travel short distances. I've never heard of a wizard travel fifty years in the past. Do you have any idea how this could have happened?"

"No, sir."

"Surely, something must have triggered off this incident. What was the last thing you remember?" Dumbledore gently prodded.

"Er..."

Harry couldn't possibly say that he tried to commit suicide, or else he would be shipped off to the magical equivalent of an insane asylum.

But the problem was that he was a terrible liar, so they would immediately know if he didn't say the truth. So he settled for a half-truth.

"I uh... remember falling through a veil," he conveyed. Well, technically he stepped though it, but they didn't need to know that.

"A veil? The only veil I've heard of is the one in the Department of Mysteries. But I know that it's heavily guarded. How did you end up there?" Dippet questioned.

"I don't know, sir. One minute I was in the grounds, and the next I know, I'm falling through a veil." Another half-truth.

"Oh..." Professor Dippet sounded confused and disappointed. "Well, in any case, Professor Dumbledore and I will try to find a way for you to get back to your time. Now seeing as you said that in your time you studied at Hogwarts, I think it's best if you continued your education here, at least until we can get you back home."

Harry nodded. He had expected as much.

He glanced at Dumbledore. He sported a calculating look on his face. Harry could tell that his old headmaster knew that he was hiding something. Dumbledore was one of the most powerful and intelligent wizards of the century, so Harry reluctantly conceded to the fact that he would most likely figure out the whole truth.

He hoped his old professor wouldn't figure it out too quickly, so that he would have the time to jump off the astronomy tower, before it was too late.

"How old are you?" the other man inquired, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Seventeen, sir."

"Ah, so seventh year. Well, seeing as you haven't been born yet, you're going to have to be resorted," he told him.

He nodded again, feeling numb. He watched as Professor Dippet summoned the Sorting Hat with his wand. A couple of seconds later, the hat was plopped on his head.

"_Well, well, what do we have here?" _the Sorting Hat's voice muttered in his head. _"A time traveler? You really are full of surprises, Harry Potter."_

"_You can say that again,"_ he said bitterly.

The hat sighed.

"_Life has been unfair to you, Mr. Potter. Nobody should have been subjected to such a life."_

"_And yet I was," _he countered. _"I'm the Boy-Who-Lived after all, and the fucking Chosen-One. Of course nobody would leave me alone. _

The hat stayed quiet for a moment.

"_You blame yourself for the death of your loved ones,"_ it stated.

Harry felt a like someone had punched him in the stomach.

"_Not just of my loved ones. Voldemort killed thousands of people, even children. I am responsible of all their deaths,_" Harry told him, not bothering to hide the self-resentment in his voice. _Even though I may not have killed them directly, my actions brought them all to an early __grave. If I had really tried, then I would have found out about the Horcruxes ages ago, and killed him before things got too bad." _Harry tried to contain a sob._ "Look, can we just get this over with?!"_

"_... As you wish. You have changed a great deal from when my future self first sorted you, Mr. Potter. While you still show admirable Gryffindor traits, I'm afraid that there's only one house suited for you-"_

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat shouted.

Harry took the hat off, and handed it back to Professor Dippet, while trying to contain his emotions. He didn't want to start crying in front of them. He didn't want to seem weak and vulnerable.

Harry didn't care that he got sorted into Slytherin. It didn't really come as a surprise to him anyway. As the years passed, he learned that there were much more important things than being sorted into a particular house.

The Sorting had become something so trivial in Harry's eyes. After all, there were only houses. A house didn't necessarily define the human being. Someone could be brave, yet cunning at the same time. It didn't mean that someone wasn't loyal and hard-working if they weren't sorted into Hufflepuff.

And anyway, it wasn't as if he was planning on staying alive long enough to get used to his new house.

"Well that's done!" Dippet stated happily, completely unaware of the younger wizards depressing thoughts. "Excuse-me for a moment, while I go bring your new Head of House."

With that said, he strolled out of the Hospital Wing, leaving Harry in Dumbledore's company.

Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out a little box containing Lemon Drops.

"Lemon Drop?"

"No thank you," he kindly declined.

Harry felt decidedly uncomfortable in the man's presence. He was restraining himself from striking a conversation with him, like old times. He had to keep reminding himself that this Dumbledore wasn't the one he knew.

A couple of minutes later, Professor Dippet reentered the room, with a familiar man at his side.

"Mr. Potter, this is Professor Slughorn, your new Head of House."

"Please to meet you sir," he said politely.

"It is I who is pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter!" the Head of Slytherin boomed, cheerily. "Having a time traveler appear at Hogwarts and sorted into Slytherin certainly is a feat!".

Harry gave him a fake smile, hoping it didn't come out as a grimace, before turning to Professor Dippet.

"Sir, about what happened... Should I tell the rest of the students that I'm from the future, or should I make up some story instead?" Harry asked him.

All three teachers seemed to ponder on this for a while.

"I'm sure we could make up a plausible story, but I'm a firm believer that the truth is the best policy. We could invent something if you really wanted to though, but the chances that someone with eventually figure out the truth are high," Dippet replied. "What do you think, professors?"

"I agree," Dumbledore said. "Seeing the state in which you turned up in the school, we could eventually spin some type of story concerning the war, but there's no use in terrifying the students anymore than they already are."

Professor Slughorn had the same opinion, even though Harry could easily tell that it was not for the same reasons. He just wanted to parade around his newest trophy.

"Do you have any objections, Mr. Potter? Dippet asked him.

He shook his head.

"Well that's settled. I will go fetch the nurse, so that she can do a final check up."

Harry, just noticing that he was still sitting on the window sill, got off. He was careful though to not put too much pressure on his knees. He didn't want to collapse and make them keep him there an extra day.

He sat back down on the bed, and waited.

A quarter of an hour later, he was walking towards the Dungeons with Professor Slughorn.

Harry was praying that the man would stay quiet. Of course, he had no such luck.

"Time travel... That's something that has always fascinated me. I must admit that I'm slightly envious. Who wouldn't want to have the privilege to travel back and forth in time. You must tell how you managed to do it."

"I didn't come here of my own free will, Professor," he corrected him, surprised that the man would think that.

"Now, now, no need to be modest, my boy!" he said, beaming at Harry.

Harry was a little annoyed that he didn't believe him, but he knew that it would be impossible to change his mind. So he just let it be. Slughorn miraculously dropped the subject after that.

"Just out of curiosity, what house were you in before?" he then asked him.

"Gryffindor."

"Ah, well then it must be a big change for you."

"I suppose."

Slughorn chuckled.

"I don't know if the seventh year curriculum has changed much in Hogwarts over the last fifty years, but it's best if you check, and eventually catch up on the things you may have not done."

"Actually I quit at the end of my sixth year, so I wouldn't know."

"Ah, well all the more reason to catch up then." He smiled. "I'm sure your fellow classmates will help you out. Most of them have gone back home for the holidays, but there's no need to worry. Our Head Boy decided to stay. So you can ask him."

"Oh well, that's good," he commented, even though he didn't really care. "What's his name?"

"His name is Tom Riddle."

Harry froze for the second time that day. But this time it was in pure horror. The only coherent thought that traveled through his head at the moment was one word:

_Shit..._

* * *

**A/N:** Well that's the second chapter ! Again, thank you so much to all those who have read, and those who have reviewed! I hope that you will continue! I'm in the process of writing the third chapter, so it should be posted soon.

Let me know if you've enjoyed this :).

Until next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**The Claws Of Depression**

**A/N: ********Hey everyone! I'm sorry I took so long to post this chapter, but my Internet has been down. (I accidentally tripped over the Internet cable and broke it.)**

******I want to thank you all again for reading my story and also for all your kind reviews, I really appreciate it :)!**

******I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter!**

**Rating:** M, just to be safe.

**Pairings:** Harry Potter/Tom Riddle.

**Warnings: **Contains swearing, depression, suicide attempts, and self-harm.

**Summary: **After the Battle of Hogwarts, a depressed Harry commits suicide, wanting nothing more but to rest in peace. But someone has other plans for him. Harry is instead sent to the year 1944, where he is reunited with his old arch nemesis, Tom Riddle. Will this experience heal him, or forever break him?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **

**Being Reunited with One's Archenemy**

Harry was frozen in pure horror. This couldn't be happening! Voldemort was still alive! All he wanted to do was die, but instead he got sent into the past, and on top of that, to the period of his future arch enemy's school days. This was a nightmare!

Just the thought of meeting Tom Riddle sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't bear to see the face of the person that would end up destroying the Wizarding World and killing innocent people.

The guilt he felt was consuming him and was killing him from the inside. He didn't want to be forced to relive every moment of it just by looking into his eyes. It sounded like pure torture to him.

Harry could say that fate was being a right bitch towards him, but he knew deep down that he deserved this punishment.

Whether he had wanted it or not, he had been entrusted with the fate of the Wizarding World. But he hadn't taken it seriously. And when he had finally realized the importance of his role, the damage had been long done.

And when he had realized the importance of it all, he still didn't do much to help. He had been so self-centered at the time. He had only thought of himself and had taken everything for granted. If he had tried harder, then he could have destroyed Voldemort a lot earlier and therefore, prevented numerous deaths.

He was supposed to be their savior, but instead he felt like their slayer. He had condemned them all to years of suffering. Those were years that they would never get back. He was responsible for ruining everyone's lives.

It was selfish of him, but Harry didn't want a reminder of everything that happened. It was too painful for him.

Harry got pulled out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Professor Slughorn gazing at him worriedly.

"Harry? Are you alright, my boy?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I guess I'm still a bit tired, is all," Harry replied, sheepishly.

He was hoping that Slughorn was going to buy the terrible excuse. He didn't feel like explaining everything that happened. He knew for a fact that the man wouldn't believe him. He already thought he had time traveled on purpose. He didn't want to make things worse.

Fortunately he was in luck as he saw the man nodding sympathetically.

"Well, you were out of it for three days, so it's understandable. Even our famous Time Traveler needs to rest," he said brightly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

The way he said it made Harry wonder if he meant it as a joke, or if he was really serious. He sincerely hoped that it was the former and not the latter.

"You'll need to take it easy for a couple of days," the man then advised him.

The rest of the trip was done in silence. Or at least he thought so. The professor could have been talking to him, but he was too preoccupied with this newest development to really pay attention.

Harry was desperately looking for a way out of this situation. He usually possessed some type of talent to get himself out of sticky situations. But this time, it proved to be useless. Nothing was coming to mind.

His stomach was filled with dread. In a couple of minutes, he was going to be face to face with Tom Riddle and there was nothing he could do about it.

All too soon he was standing in front of the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. Unlike the Gryffindor entrance, it didn't have a portrait guarding it, but a stone wall.

Slughorn said the password and the wall slid to the right, revealing the passage to the Common Room.

The Potions professor motioned for him to go through first. Resisting the urge to run away, he stepped into the room.

He repressed a shudder at the cold atmosphere of the room. He'd only been in there once, back in his second year at Hogwarts, so he'd forgotten how uncomfortable it was.

He wasn't overly surprised though when he noticed that Riddle wasn't in the Common Room. After all, It was still early, so he was most likely still sleeping.

He barely managed to stop a hysterical giggle from escaping his lips. He found it weird that a future Dark Lord would need something so basic as sleep. It just seemed so... human.

Harry saw Professor Slughorn make his way to where he assumed were the seventh year Slytherin dorm. He waited anxiously, his heart hammering in his chest.

A couple of seconds later, the man reemerged from the room, a disappointed expression on his face.

"He's not there. He must have gone to the library."

Relief washed over him. Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. But his relief was short lived, however, as Slughorn suddenly cheered up. He could easily tell that he had an idea, but also that he wasn't going to like what it entailed.

"I'll go look for young Tom in the library," he announced, seemingly pleased with himself for coming up with the idea.

Harry paled.

"NO!" he blurted out, a little too quickly. He mentally cursed himself when he saw the bewildered look on the other's face. "I mean that it won't be necessary," he then said, more calmly. "I was thinking of taking a nap anyway, so I can just meet him when he returns to the Common Room."

The professor was once again sporting the disappointed look. Harry felt slightly irritated at this. He knew that the man just wanted to show him off, like he was just some possession.

Slughorn didn't push the issue though, for which Harry was glad.

"Well, if you're sure... Have a nice rest, I'll check up on you later," he told him, before exiting the room.

Harry trudged up the stairs and opened the door to his new dorm. He then flung himself onto one of the beds, his mind reeling.

If only he had been in Gryffindor Tower. He could have opened the window in his dorm and jumped.

He also wasn't so stupid as to leave the Common Room and try to jump off the Astronomy Tower in broad daylight. If someone caught him then things wouldn't bode well for him.

He could already tell that Dumbledore was suspicious about the conditions of his arrival, and so that he would be watching him closely. No, Harry had to be smart about this. He had to do it when he was sure nobody was looking, but before the old headmaster found out about his suicidal tendencies.

Harry sighed. He had managed to postpone briefly the meeting between him and Riddle, but he resigned himself to the fact that in the end, there was no escaping it. He needed a plan.

He thought about just murdering the man the moment he laid eyes upon him, but he knew that he couldn't bring himself to do that. While he had no qualms about killing Voldemort, the younger version of him was another case. He was a horrible person, no doubt about that, but he technically hadn't committed any of the horrible crimes he was responsible for in the future yet.

"_Coward," a_ little voice in the back of Harry's head said to him.

He was only looking for excuses not to do it, and he knew it. He was too much of a wimp to kill him again. Well, If you thought about it, he wasn't really the one who had killed Voldemort the first time. He had been killed by his own rebounding curse.

Harry covered his face with his hands and groaned. He had no idea what to do.

* * *

Tom Riddle was frustrated. He was making no progress whatsoever. The books he had found concerning Horcruxes weren't any help to him. And the problem was that there weren't a lot of books on this subject, so this made his studying a lot more complicated.

These mood swings he was experiencing were getting tiresome. He had no doubt that it was one of the side effects of creating Horcruxes. But certainly there was a way to get rid of this inconvenience. Tom Riddle simply could not be emotionally unstable.

The only wizard who was publicly known for successfully creating one was Herpo the Foul, and that was thousands of years ago. Unfortunately, no one knew if he was still alive or not, so Tom couldn't track him down.

He could feel the anger boiling inside of him. He knew that if he didn't release any of it soon then he would end up hurting someone.

So he was making his way to the Slytherin Common Room where he knew that he would be alone.

Tom Riddle practically hissed the password and stepped into the Common Room. Within seconds he had opened the door to his dorm and stepped into the room.

He stopped in his tracks though when he saw that there was another person there with him, a man more precisely. He was lying on his bed and his eyes were closed. His hand went immediately to his wand. He pointed it at the intruder, ready to defend himself if necessary.

The other person though didn't seem to notice he was there.

He cautiously approached him, while keeping his wand elevated. Now that he was able to get a closer look at his face, he noticed that the man was in fact the one that had appeared at Hogwarts three days ago.

"What are you doing here?" he asked coldly.

The effect was instantaneous. The man's eyes shot open in pure shock. Panicking, he rolled off the bed and fell head first onto the floor. Tom knew that must have hurt. But he raven haired man jumped to his feet and faced him, seemingly ignoring the pain.

Tom's anger was now replaced by amusement. He loved having that king of reaction on others.

But Tom quickly noticed that there was something off about him. He could see all types of emotions flowing in his eyes. He first saw shock, then hate and weariness, and finally resignation.

He resisted the urge to frown. Why would he hate him? They didn't even know each other, did they? It was just like a couple of days earlier where he thought he saw some type of recognition flash in his eyes moments before he collapsed. It was odd.

"You startled me," the man uttered, meeting his gaze.

He seemed to relax, but Tom knew better. In fact, if he hadn't spent years studying each person's body language, then he would have fallen for it. The man was far too tense to be relaxed. It was as if he was expecting him to unexpectedly attack him. Another thing he found extremely odd.

"Clearly," Tom stated, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Silence followed that statement. Tom noted that even though the other's gaze hadn't wavered, he was fidgeting slightly. He was uncomfortable in his presence.

"Name?" Tom inquired.

"What?" the other said stupidly.

"Your name," he repeated calmly. "It's polite to introduce yourself when you meet someone new."

"Oh." He blushed slightly. "Harry Potter."

"Potter? I can't say I've heard of a Harry Potter before. Are you related to Charlus Potter by any chance?

The man hesitated. "In a way," he then conceded.

Tom raised an eyebrow at the non-answer, but didn't comment on it.

"Well Potter, I'm afraid that you haven't answered my first question. What are you doing here?"

"I... Uh..." Potter shuffled his feet slightly. "I got sorted here. The headmaster said I should stay at Hogwarts until he finds a way to send me back."

"Send you back where?"

Potter didn't say anything for a moment. He seemed to be looking for his words.

"To my time," he finally said.

Tom's eyes widened in surprise before he could stop himself. A time traveler? It wasn't unheard of, but it remained extremely rare. The last person who had managed to time travel was over two hundred years ago.

It seemed far fetched for Tom. But Potter's eyes held no lies in them. That could mean two things. Either he was an excellent actor, or else he was telling the truth. But by looking closely at Potter, Tom was thinking more the latter.

"Prove it," he ordered.

Tom saw him stiffen even more. A sign that he was getting angry. He obviously hated when others gave him orders.

"Why?" he retorted.

"Do you really need me to answer that question, Potter?"

They stared at each other for a couple of seconds.

"I'm not asking you to believe me."

He took a couple of steps towards Potter, until he was standing right in front of him. This was an intimidation tactic he used often on his Death Eaters. While most of them would have backed away, Potter stood his ground.

"I take it you're not going to give me any proof, so I can only conclude that you're lying. And I don't take well to liars," he told him in a menacing voice.

"I'm not scared of you."

Tom found him amusing. A lot more amusing than his followers in fact. It was just like having a disobedient pet whom he had to train. And that's exactly what he intended to do.

"Oh, but you will be," he promised reaching out to touch Potter's cheek, only for him to jerk out of the way."You will be."

Tom then stepped away from him and made his way to the door. He put his hand on the handle and glanced back at his new housemate.

"Oh and by the way Potter, that was my bed you were lying on earlier."

Potter blushed furiously in response. He looked away from him, visibly flustered. Tom smirked. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Harry spent most of the day in his new dorm, in order to avoid Riddle. He had talked to him for literally ten minutes and it was pure torture. He was arrogant and narcissistic, everything he hated. And on top of that a murderer, a sadistic and prejudiced git.

He wondered what the Death Eaters saw in him to respect and remain loyal to him during all these years. It was a complete mystery to him.

Riddle seemed to be sure that in time, he was going to be terrified of him. Well, he was going to be in for a nasty surprise. Harry used to fear Voldemort, there was no use in denying it, but his fear was rapidly triumphed by the unadulterated hatred he felt towards him.

And this younger version of Voldemort didn't scare him either. The only thing he had succeeded in doing was making him a slight bit uncomfortable, but everyone had that effect on him to a certain extent when they stared at him.

But he had noticed that Riddle's stare was different from the others. It held a more sinister edge. He had looked at him like he was some lab rat he wanted to dissect, and he didn't like that one bit.

He had known from the start that he was going to attract Riddle's attention, just with the fact that he was new.

He had also known that when he told him that he was a time traveler. Whether he believed him or not wasn't the issue. In any case, he didn't win. If he believed him, then he would be pestering him for information concerning the future, and if he didn't, then he would be a liar and his life would be made more difficult for it. So he had been reluctant to tell him.

Harry sighed. If he stayed in here any longer, then someone would come and drag him out of there by force.

He opened the dorm door and stepped out of the room.

"Harry, my boy!" Professor Slughorn's voice boomed, making Harry jump violently.

The professor was sitting on one of the settees in the Common Room. Riddle was sitting on the other one.

"Hi Professor," he greeted, forcing a smile on his lips. He wasn't in the mood to deal with him right now.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"I feel great, thank you sir," he lied.

"Brilliant!" the man exclaimed. "I trust you've met Tom here?" he continued, gesturing Riddle with his hand.

Harry nodded.

"Come! Join us!" Slughorn invited him, who was now beckoning him to come closer. "We were just talking about you."

Harry reluctantly joined them. He sat down next to Slughorn, who was now transfiguring a quill into a cup.

"Tea?" he offered.

"Please."

The cup was quickly filled with tea and shoved into his hands. Harry thanked him and took a quick sip. He glanced at Riddle. He looked awfully calm for someone who had spent a while talking to Slughorn.

Riddle, probably sensing that he was being looked at, turned his head slightly and locked eyes with him. They stayed like that for a couple of seconds before Riddle diverted his gaze once more.

"So, Harry, how are you settling in?" the professor asked him.

"Well, as good as anyone who'd be in my situation, I suppose," he answered honestly.

The man chuckled.

"How is it you managed to time travel?" Riddle asked him, keeping his expression neutral. But Harry could tell he was curious.

"I don't really know," Harry replied, resisting the urge to beat him senseless. "The last thing I remember is falling through a veil."

He knew he was forced to stick with the same story he told Professors Dumbledore and Dippet. After all, he couldn't really go and invent a new story now. These types of things would end up catching back to him in the end, as everything tended to do with him.

"A veil?" Slughorn said, frowning in confusion. Harry guessed that he had never heard of the veil in the Department of Mysteries. He wondered vaguely if he was going to ask about it. But he didn't. "But you said that it's the last thing you remember, surely you must know how you came here."

Harry gritted his teeth.

"Professor, I know you think that I came here on purpose, but I can assure you I didn't. What satisfaction do you think I can have with time traveling? I didn't want this!" he retorted, fighting to keep the venom out of his voice.

Apparently he didn't succeed well enough.

"Hey, now no need to get angry, my boy!" the man told him, lifting his hands in surrender.

"Sorry," he muttered, even though he didn't mean it.

Professor Slughorn beamed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I came here to tell you that someone would be taking you to Diagon Alley tomorrow so that you can get some school supplies. Now usually we would order them by owl, but the headmaster told me that apparently you've lost your wand."

"Yeah, someone took it away from me just before I came here."

"Then be at the headmaster's office by noon, you'll be flooing there. And as soon as that's settled you'll be able to start catching up on your work. Tom has agreed to help you out a little," the man announced happily.

Harry's stomach dropped.

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, Tom here will be tutoring you until you're up do date, and there's a lot of work for you to catch up on. But he's a stellar student, so no worries."

Harry didn't want to be forced to spend anymore time than necessary with Riddle.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to be an imposition," he said, choosing his words carefully.

"Nonsense!"

"It's no trouble I assure you Potter," Riddle then said, a charming smile plastered on his face. But Harry could see the evil glint in his eyes lingering underneath his mask.

"Excellent, well then I'll take my leave. I'll see you both tomorrow," the professor declared, standing up.

The man left the room, leaving the two Slytherins together.

Harry closed his eyes and laid his head back on the sofa.

Today had exhausted him both physically and mentally. Finding out he'd time traveled to the past, and also being reunited with your old archenemy had taken a lot out of him.

He had had enough. He could only hope that it would end soon. He had a feeling that he'd go mad if this went on for too long.

Harry knew he was being stared at, but he was too tired and depressed to take any notice. He stood up and made his way back up to the dorm. He made sure to lie down on his own bed this time. He took off his glasses and put them on the bedside table.

He was asleep within seconds.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, I hope that you've enjoyed this chapter.

Please pop in a review! I love hearing (or, technically, reading) your opinions :).

Have a nice day or evening ! Until next chapter!


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